


I Remember You

by Creme_Fraiche



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Artist Anakin Skywalker, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, M/M, Memory Loss, Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker Friendship, Protective Padmé Amidala, Rating May Change, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme_Fraiche/pseuds/Creme_Fraiche
Summary: "The overwhelming sensation of belonging flooded his every sinew, every bone and every nerve.This was why he had to remember. He didn’t want to lose this feeling, he couldn’t bear the thought of never feeling like this again.Even the idea of it made his heart ache."Anakin Skywalker wakes up after a drunken night on the town with two words written on the palm of his hand, "Remember Obi-Wan". With only his fragmented memory to guide him, Anakin embarks on a journey across the city to find the man who changed his life... He thinks.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59
Collections: hope is like the sun





	1. North Lights

_ Ears… Ringing… Head… Buzzing…  _

Anakin’s throat was dry, his eyelids felt sticky. He hoarsely groaned, the morning light almost blinding as his eyes fluttered open. He could feel a throbbing in the back of his head, a pulsing sensation that rolled from his neck to his temples. He screwed his eyes shut, struggling to adjust to the bright light. Where was he? He was lying on something soft. He grunted as he sat up, his vision beginning to normalise. He was lying on the sofa, he recognised the throw pillow at his feet.

The magnolia walls of his apartment began to sharpen, the ringing in his ears quieting down to reveal the murmur of the morning news on the TV. 

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” A voice cooed from the doorway. Anakin rubbed the gunk from his eyes, blinking quickly and looking in the direction of the voice, spying his roommate Padmé Amidala leaning against the wooden doorframe, slowly steeping her morning tea in her favourite white mug, “You feeling better?”   
  
“What happened last night?” Anakin asked, groggy and still considerably out of it as he looked around their living room. They lived in a moderately sized place in an affluent district of their city, nothing too snazzy but it was a nice place. Padmé snickered, walking into the room and setting her tea down on the coffee table, perching herself delicately on the arm of the sofa and looking down at her roommate,

“We went out to celebrate my new job, and you getting that exhibition slot in Gallery North,” She explained, her hands folded neatly in her lap, “We started at Reflections, got a cab uptown to Misty Maven,” She bobbed her head side to side as she listed the hot spots they’d dived into the night before, “And then I lost you,” She couldn’t help but smile at the look of shock and confusion on Anakin’s face, “I came home, waited for a few hours but you never showed up. Cut to six am, you fall through the front door, so I got you onto the sofa and you went out like a light.”

_ Must’ve been a hell of a night. _

Anakin groaned again as the throbbing in his temples deepened, raising a hand to massage them when he noticed it. And he stared for a minute, tilting his head to the side.

“...Who’s Obi-Wan?” He asked, looking up at Padmé, who only shrugged.

He had no idea how, or why, but there it was, written on his hand in what smelled like a sharpie.

_ Remember Obi-Wan. _

He lurched suddenly, grunting as he squeezed his eyes shut, a memory flashing at the front of his mind, behind his eyes. He heard laughing, he could smell food. It smelled like a breakfast burrito? He felt sick suddenly. He recognised the place… He was on the pier. The sun was rising over the harbour. He saw himself writing the words on his hand, there was someone else with him. He went to look at their face, but the memory faded from view.

Padmé frowned, reaching out to place a hand on Anakin’s shoulder,

“Hey, Ani, you good?” She squeezed his shoulder blade delicately, and he recoiled slightly, opening his eyes,

“I… I don’t remember what happened last night. I hate it when I can’t remember things,” Anakin winced, shaking his head. Padmé managed a soft smile, moving her hand back into her lap, as she shifted on the arm of the sofa,

“I know, Ani,” She reassured, her soft, honey gaze falling under half lidded eyes, “Do you remember the exercises Doctor Kryze went through with you?”

Anakin ran his tongue across his dry lips, nodding his head,

“I know, I know,” He muttered, hugging his knees to his chest, “I just… I don’t feel like painting right now.”

Padmé slid off the arm of the sofa, landing somehow very gracefully at his side. She hugged an arm around him, resting her head on his shoulder,

“C’mon, maybe having a shower or something will clear your head. Besides,” She grinned, bringing her arm back and nudging him in the side with her elbow, “You stink.” She teased. Anakin managed a half laugh, glancing at her with a slight grin, but he couldn’t get his mind off of the issue in front of him. 

_ Who was Obi-Wan? And why did he need to remember them? _

His hands shot up into the air, and he stretched, groaning as he extended through his back to his fingers. Padmé sighed with gentle relief, watching Anakin as she sipped her tea. She’d been to hell and back with him, and he was her ride or die forever, but she knew deep down that she’d never quite figure him out.

And that was okay.

Anakin stood, the blanket falling from his body to pool on the floor, exposing his dishevelled clothing. Scuffed, ripped in places, what had he been up to all night? Padmé nudged him with her foot,

“Go on, get showered,” She pursed her lips, “And don’t just dump your clothes with mine, those need washing  _ now _ .”

The tall man sighed, hanging his head as he waddled to the doorway,

“Yes mistress, anything else mistress?” He put on a funny voice, looking back at Padmé over his shoulder, who shook her head with a laugh,

“That’s all, and don’t call me mistress,” She called to him as he left the room, “I’m too young to be a mistress!”

“That’s what you think!” Anakin called back, giggling like a child as Padmé targeted him with a throw pillow, bouncing it off his head as he escaped into the bathroom.

  * • •



As the hot water ran over Anakin’s body, he felt a moment of calm, slowly massaging the shampoo into his scalp. He closed his eyes, thinking about the memory flash he’d had on the sofa. He tried to remember more, but nothing came. He opened his eyes and looked at his hand, the black ink bleeding into the fine lines of his palm. 

_ Remember Obi-Wan. _

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the tiled wall, the water running down his back. He looked at his feet, the water splashing into the footwell of the shower and running down the drain. He wiggled his toes, a frown washing over his face as he tried to remember something,  _ anything  _ that could give him an idea of what happened last night. He threw his head back and felt his hair slap against his shoulder blades, soap running down the contours of his torso. 

He couldn’t understand why he’d written on his hand in the first place, surely he would have put the number in his phone… 

_ His phone _ . 

He turned the water off and grabbed a towel, clumsily draping it around his unmentionables and stumbling out of the bathroom. He slid slightly on the laminate as he rushed into the living room, taking Padmé by surprise as she looked up at him from the sofa, 

“What’s wrong?” She asked quickly, recognising the panicked look in his eyes. Anakin wasn’t even aware of how much water he was dripping onto the cushions as he picked them up to search under them. He tossed a pillow aside, and raised his hands either side of his head, knotting his fingers in his still wet and dripping hair,

“My phone. I can’t find my phone.” He replied quickly, his anxiety beginning to rise through his body. Where was it? His head was still murky, he felt dizzy. 

Padmé stood, placing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder to steady him,

“Okay, okay,” She reassured, guiding him down to sit on the sofa, “Breathe, we can find it okay?”

Anakin’s heart was racing. He’d never been able to handle his anxiety, ever since he was a teenager. He exhaled slowly, looking down into his lap as Padmé rubbed a gentle circle on his shoulder,

  
“We can get on my laptop and ping a signal, so even if it’s turned off or broken we can find it’s last location.” She spoke calmly, reassuring her dear friend. She adored Anakin, he was like a brother, and she hated to see him in distress. Anakin sucked in his stomach, and held it there for a moment, closing his eyes. 

_ Relax. Relax. Let it all out. _

With a heavy exhale, Anakin felt the tension simmer down into his torso, slowly dispersing,

“Okay,” He nodded, “I’ll get dressed, you get your laptop.” He looked at Padmé, who smiled back at him tenderly. 

“See you in a sec,” She nudged him off the sofa, grabbing her laptop bag off the table, half watching Anakin as he wandered off to his bedroom.

  * • •



“Right, if we just log you in…” Padmé trailed off as she typed in Anakin’s details to the FindMyPhone app on her laptop, shuffling as she sat on the floor with her back against the sofa, Anakin’s legs either side of her as he sat behind her, watching over her shoulder. 

The screen flashed white as the map loaded, isolating the signal as it zoomed in section by section, until it finally loaded up it’s last known location. Anakin stared at the screen, and Padmé winced, glancing back at him,

“Ani…” She began, cautious, “Why is your phone in the harbour?”

There it was, a dot of grey in a big blue square. 

“I don’t…” Anakin sat back slowly, squeezing his eyes shut as another fragment of his memory formed in the front of his mind, a view of the harbour bursting into view.

_ “If you want, I can put my number in your phone?”  _

This voice… It was familiar but he couldn’t put it to a face. He saw himself looking down from the harbour lights to his pocket, pulling his phone out. He fumbled with it, and in an instant it slipped from his fingers. He could remember the feeling of panic, but it was still so blurry. There was a clunk, and then a splash as his phone bounced off of the boardwalk and into the water below.

A pause followed, before the sound of laughter echoed through his head, and he could see somebody hunched over beside him. The same clothes as the other memory from earlier. Was that  _ him _ ? 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered under his breath, launching himself back into reality, the room forming around him. Padmé frowned, setting her laptop on the coffee table,

“Obi-Wan? Isn’t that the name on your hand?” She asked, hugging her arms to her chest as Anakin nodded. He sat forward, ruffling his hair and shaking it out,

“I need to go to the harbour,” He kicked his leg over Padmé and stood, looking out the window of their apartment onto the city, “I think… I think if I can find my phone, there could be something on it that could jog my memory about last night.”

Padmé stood, grabbing Anakin’s arm,

“Ani, wait,” She tried, “You’re not making any sense, if your phone is there it’s probably been washed away with the tide.” She attempted to reason, but Anakin pulled his arm away, grabbing his jacket as he went. He had made up his mind,

“Paddy, you can either come with me or you can stay here,” He retorted, collecting his keys and his wallet from the coffee table. Padmé watched him cautiously, but the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. She understood how important this was to him, and it wasn’t her place to stop it. She withdrew her hand with a soft smile, and gestured towards the door with a nod of her head,

  
“Alright, I can’t stop you,” She sighed gently, “Just… Don’t go too far. If your phone is floating away on an ocean current I can’t exactly contact you if something happens.” She laughed nervously. Anakin shrugged his jacket onto his shoulders properly, and he grinned. A genuine grin, that playful arrogance Padmé had seen in him all those years ago. She’d missed it.

“I’ll see you later Paddy, okay? I’ll bring us some food back from that noodle place on Claypole.” He jangled his keys in his pocket, standing in the open doorway of their apartment, “Does the subway go to the harbour?”

Padmé looked over at him from the sofa, pausing in thought momentarily,

“I think so? You should be able to go downtown and get off at North Lights, the harbours in walking distance from there.”

“Thanks Paddy,” Anakin waved to his flatmate, before swinging the door shut behind him, making a beeline for the building’s stairwell. If he could find his phone,  _ surely  _ he had some pictures on there or something, right? He must’ve taken some selfies, or maybe they added each other on social media? There had to be  _ something _ .

  * • •



The subway journey was as uneventful as expected, and as the train pulled into North Lights Station, Anakin stepped through the sliding doors to be greeted by the familiar scent of the seabreeze, the chill in the air coming from the world above. He jogged up the concrete stairway to the street, his hands in his pockets as he felt the biting winter wind. He shivered slightly, his breath condensing in the air around him as he power walked to the harbour. North Lights was a district of the city he hadn’t spent a huge amount of time in, named after its iconic lighthouse-turned-brewery on the north shore. The district itself was mainly market stalls and microbreweries for the fishermen. The main point of interest for tourists outside the boozery was Gallery North, a monolithic building that stood high over the docks, separating North Lights from its neighbouring district. He looked around as he walked, trying to spot anything that could trigger another memory, anything at all.

The smoke rising from the marketplace signalled he was getting closer to the harbour, the smell of fried fish drawing him closer to the shorefront. He knew there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to find his phone, but it was worth a shot. He wandered onto the docks, spying a familiar flag waving half-mast on a yacht. He recognised it from the memory, so decided to begin his search there. 

The docks were quiet this time of the morning, so he had no issue lowering himself down onto the sandbank beneath the harbour. The tide was out, so if he’d dropped his phone into the water last night… He could only hope it jammed in the sand. He took light steps across the muddy sandbed as he began his search, knowing that even if he did find his phone it was out of battery and potentially waterlogged. He scanned the sand, searching for what felt like an hour, he was on the verge of giving up when he felt a solid object buried under the surface, accompanied by a slight crunch as he weighed down on it with his foot. 

_ Found you _ .

He scrambled in the sand, digging until he unearthed his once lost and now found phone, springing to his feet once he had it in his hands. He was grinning ear to ear, he hadn’t even noticed the damage. A cracked screen, the headphone jack and charge port were both loaded with mud, he wasn’t even sure of the damage inside. 

But he found it. That was a good start. He slid it into his pocket, and hoisted himself up back onto the boardwalk, taking a look at his surroundings. He couldn’t understand why he and Obi-Wan had come here, he had a throbbing in the back of his head. This damned hangover. He shook himself off, making his way back into North Lights and heading for the subway station. He turned the corner into the stairs to the uptown line, greeted by the dulcet strums of a busking guitarman. The song was a popular chart topper, turned acoustic for the busker’s performance as he strummed away, singing the pleasant melody. Anakin hopped off the bottom step, glancing at the clock on the wall. The train was due in a minute, but that song… He turned his head towards the busker, and a memory lurched in his head, a flashback to the night before.

_ “Lights will guide you home…”  _

That voice… That heavenly voice. He remembered fumbling with his phone as he watched the busker. 

_ “Hold… Hold on,”  _ Anakin could hear his own voice,  _ “I’m gonna f-film this.” _

The busker wasn’t singing, he was playing an accompaniment. The voice was coming from another man, wearing the same clothes as the other memories. Why wasn’t he looking at him? Just look at his  _ face _ , Anakin.

_ “And ignite your bones…” _

It was beautiful. So smooth, so clear. Anakin felt a rush of emotions in his chest as he remembered it. It was… Indescribable.

_ “And I will try… To fix you.” _

The palms of his hands tingled as he remembered vigorously clapping in applause for the performing duo, and the busker shook hands with the other man,

_ “That was awesome, what’s your name, man?” _

_ “I’m Obi-Wan, and that’s Anakin. We’re-” _

The trance was broken by the rampant screeching of the subway train’s brakes as it skidded to a halt, Anakin looking over his shoulder as the memory faded from view. His heart was racing. Did he have tears in his eyes? He shook out his hands, getting onboard the train and taking a seat. The doors hissed as they closed, and the train jerked into motion, carrying Anakin uptown. He was lost in thought, but he had more information now than he did when he woke up a few hours ago. He’d already figured it out, but at least he knew that it  _ was  _ Obi-Wan in these memories. He looked down at his phone as he danced it between his fingers, pursing his lips.

There had to be more clues to what happened hidden inside, but if he couldn’t get it to work, then… He brushed the thought aside, and shifted in his seat as the train rushed through the tunnels. He rested his head back against the glass, staring at the ceiling of the carriage. 

_ I’ll remember you, Obi-Wan. I promise. _

  * • •



After a seemingly endless subway ride and a stop at Padmé and his favourite takeout place, Anakin jogged back towards his apartment building, the high rise complexes and skyscraping apartment blocks of the Sunday Towers district blocking the midday sun as he stopped on a street corner, waiting for the passing traffic to give him an opening. He couldn’t get Obi-Wan’s voice out of his head, the more he heard it in his memories the more he  _ missed  _ it. He took a moment to look both ways over the intersection, and raised his hand in a passing thanks as he jogged across the street, arriving soon at his destination. 

Once inside and up the stairs, he unlocked the front door and headed inside, Padmé turning the corner from her bedroom with a bright smile, her hair tied up in a messy bun and she had her glasses on. She’d been working, Anakin could always tell when she’d been working. 

“Successful trip?” Padmé asked, immediately eyeing the bag of steaming takeout food in Anakin’s hand. Anakin grinned, nodding his head as he headed into the kitchen, placing the bag on the countertop. Padmé opened a cupboard to grab some plates, and Anakin began to unpack the bags.

“So,” Anakin began as he poured them both a drink, Padmé listening carefully as she pulled up a chair, “Good news, I found my phone,” He slid onto his chair at the counter, emptying the contents of the tupperware container onto his plate, “Bad news, it’s pretty busted up and I don’t know how bad the internal damage is.”   
  
Padmé frowned as she took a sip of water, setting her cup down and taking a mouthful of noodles,

“Okay, so,” She swallowed between words, “What’s the plan?”

“I need to borrow your laptop,” Anakin replied, stabbing his fork into a fried shrimp, “I remember taking a video on the subway, Obi-Wan sang with a busker,” He felt a warmth wash through his chest at the thought, “There’s a chance it was uploaded to my cloud before my phone went in the dock.”

Padmé twirled her noodles on her fork, pausing for a moment,

“So… You do remember last night?” She asked inquisitively, to which Anakin shook his head, frowning,

“Not entirely,” He explained, “I don’t know what’s happening, but… I’m remembering it in fragments, and I don’t remember it until, I… I realise it? If that makes sense?” He tried, noting Padmé’s confused expression, “Like, I didn’t remember the harbour until I realised I’d lost my phone, and I remembered the video of the busker when I heard the busker singing in the subway, it’s… It’s messing with my head,” He winced, resting his hands on the counter with a sigh, “I have to do this, Paddy.”

Padmé swallowed her food, and set her fork down on the empty plate. She sat back in her chair, pulling the bobby pin from her bun and letting her hair fall down, scratching the roots of her lustrous locks to give her bob a little more bounce,

“Ani, we’ve been friends for  _ years _ , but I knew from the second I met you at rush week…” She smiled, eyes half lidded, “There’s nothing on this earth that could stop you from doing what  _ you  _ want to do.” She teased, “And that’s why I’ve never tried. Stay here, I’ll get my laptop and we can get onto your cloud, okay?”

Anakin nodded with a mouthful of noodles, a half smile on his lips as he finished his meal. Padmé scooted off her seat and wandered out of the kitchen, leaving Anakin to sit and ponder for a minute.

Was he really like that? He’d always seen himself as agreeable and open minded, but never as headstrong. He wasn’t headstrong, right? 

If Padmé said so, then it must at least be half true. She knew him better than anybody. She knew him better than  _ himself _ . 

Their friendship had endured many years, having met during recruitment week at their university, they had bonded over a common interest in the anti-jock movement. Padmé was studying communications, while Anakin studied Fine Arts, having been a painter for several years prior. They hadn’t bunked together, but they did spend a large amount of time together throughout their studies, eventually moving in together following their graduation. They spent a year in a cramped apartment in Phenic, a small town with not a lot going on, until they eventually moved to the city and got their current apartment. 

In the midst of Anakin’s reminiscing about the past, Padmé had already set up her laptop ready to go, nudging her friend out of his trance with a snicker,

“Go on then, Sleepwalker,” She teased, “Log into your cloud, let’s see what secrets it holds.” She slid the laptop over to him, and Anakin punched in his details, watching as the screen loaded. 

The pictures popped up one by one, nothing Anakin hadn’t seen before, dribs and drabs of his ‘inspiration’ folder, a collection of images of him and Padmé on their various day trips around the city, until a series of blurred images began to appear. Anakin leaned in, trying to decipher what the pictures were, until the videos appeared. 

Padmé leaned across, frowning,

“How drunk  _ were  _ you?” She asked, receiving only an elbow in the side from Anakin in response as he clicked on one of the videos.

“And ignite your bones…” The laptop suddenly sang, showing them a shaky view of the subway floor, the sound of Anakin’s shaky laughter ringing out from behind the camera. Anakin’s heart fluttered as he heard that voice again, watching as his past self eagerly tried to hold the camera steady, but all he got was legs and feet, with the bottom of the busker’s guitar, “And I will try… To fix you.”

Anakin’s excited applause followed, his phone slapping between his hands as he did so. Padmé couldn’t help but smile as she watched, glancing every so often at Anakin to see his reaction. 

“That was awesome, what’s your name, man?” The busker asked, Anakin’s phone pointing once again at the floor. 

“I’m Obi-Wan, and that’s Anakin, we’re going to the harbour to watch the sunrise,” Obi-Wan said, Anakin willing his past self to point the camera up. 

_ Let me see his face. Please. _

“Do you want to join us?” Obi-Wan asked the busker, who politely laughed,

“No, no, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it,” He replied, and a heat suddenly rose in Anakin’s cheeks, a soft flush of red dusting his nose, “Have a great night fellas.”

“And you,” Obi-Wan called out, followed the sound of money dropping into a guitar case. Anakin watched as the camera shook, filming as two pairs of feet began to walk. The video stopped dead, and Anakin sat back, eyes wide.

_ Lovebirds. _

That word bounced around in his head, until Padmé placed a hand on his shoulder, 

“Ani, there’s another video.” She reminded him, and she was right. Anakin paused, glancing at Padmé,

  
“Should we watch it?” He asked, and Padmé looked at the screen, before nodding. On her request, he clicked on it to open, and they watched.

It was a video of Anakin, who had his back to the camera, walking through a park,

“What are you doing back there?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder,

“Filming,” Obi-Wan’s voice appeared from behind the camera, he sounded almost playful, ”Don’t you want me to?”

Anakin grinned as he looked back at him,

“Nah, you can film,” He replied, before looking back at where he was going, continuing to walk. 

The camera shifted focus, looking around at the trees and grass that surrounded them, Anakin spotting several street lights wrapped delicately in fairy lights, noticing a large lit up fountain in the distance. The camera continued to look around, eventually panning down, to reveal Anakin leading Obi-Wan by his hand, holding on tightly. Obi-Wan ran his thumb across Anakin’s knuckles slowly, panning the camera back up to look at Anakin, who glanced back over his shoulder again with a grin,

“Okay, put that camera away, I changed my mind.” He snickered, letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand and turning to face him.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, beginning to back away, “You’re gonna have to catch me.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin had a flirtatious glint in his eyes as he took long strides towards the camera, “C’mere you,” He laughed, suddenly lunging and hoisting Obi-Wan into the air, who laughed gleefully as he held onto the phone,

“No, no! That’s cheating!” He called out, filming the floor but then moving the camera, “Nice ass, Ani,” He teased, before being lowered down, the camera now filming Anakin’s chest,

“Winner gets a kiss,” He purred, and Obi-Wan snickered, the phone slipping from his grip to bounce off the floor, landing slightly away from them, revealing a view of their torsos pressed against each other, Anakin boxing Obi-Wan against a tree, still never seeing his face.

Anakin and Padmé watched, mouths agape at the sight. Anakin’s face was bright red, and Padmé couldn’t contain her joy, practically bouncing on her chair,

“ _ Ani _ !” She exclaimed, “You  _ kissed  _ him?” She was so excited, she hadn’t even noticed that Anakin had clasped his hands together, in the same way he’d been holding hands with Obi-Wan in the video. He stared at the screen, a distant longing in his eyes, watching as his past self broke away from Obi-Wan to pick up his phone,

“You don’t get to hold my phone anymore,” He called off screen, before looking down at the camera with the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. Padmé swore he’d never looked happier. The video stopped, and Anakin sat in a stunned silence. 

He didn’t remember any of that, or at least, he hadn’t remembered it until that moment. He still couldn’t place Obi-Wan’s face, and  _ that  _ was the most frustrating part for him. He buried his head in his hands, groaning loudly,

“What’s  _ wrong  _ with me?” He asked weakly, staring at the counter, “I meet a guy, we have this amazing night, and I can’t remember  _ any  _ of it?” He looked at Padmé, who watched him with a motherly gaze, her eyes half lidded. She placed a hand delicately on his back, rubbing a slow circle on his back. She leaned in slightly,

“Ani, you were drunk. You were  _ really  _ drunk,” She laughed softly, “It makes sense there’d be lapses in your memory. Your brain practically shut down, alcohol slows down the nerve communication, remember?” She moved her hand and took him into a side hug, resting her head on his shoulder, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Anakin sighed, looking back down and closing his eyes. He knew Padmé was right, he  _ was  _ beating himself up for it, but he was upset. The things he felt watching that video, he couldn’t explain. It was like he’d watched a video of his childhood home after living away for thirty years, the overwhelming sensation of belonging flooded his every sinew, every bone and every nerve.

This was why he had to remember. He didn’t want to lose this feeling, he couldn’t bear the thought of never feeling like  _ this _ again. 

Even the idea of it made his heart ache.

“What do you say we have a cozy night in,” Padmé pushed Anakin’s hair back, smiling up at him, “We order pizza, put some crappy horror movie on Netflix and open a bottle of wine, huh?”

Anakin couldn’t help but smile. Padmé was his best friend, and no matter how bad he felt, she would always try to help him feel better. He sat back, breaking from her hug and nodding, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and grinning,

“Sounds good, Paddy,” He replied, laughing slightly, before taking her into a hug of his own, “Thanks for always being there, friend.” He whispered into her hair. Padmé exhaled slowly against Anakin’s chest, wrapping her arms around him,

“Love you, Ani.” She whispered, closing her eyes.   
  
“I love you too, Paddy.”

  * • •



Following their agreement of a cozy night in, Anakin decided to go through the blurry pictures on his cloud, to see if he could trigger any sort of memory. He’d managed to piece together fragments of the end of the night. They arrived at North Lights station, they went to the harbour to watch the sunrise and got breakfast burritos, and then Anakin  _ somehow  _ got home. Between Misty Maven and the busker at North Lights, Anakin had no idea what happened there.

He scrolled through the pictures to gain a vague semblance of what they could be, but they all looked like different shots of different streets in the city, street lamps and headlights swiped across every single image. He closed the screen and sat back on his bed, setting the laptop aside and hugging his knees to his chest.

_ Think, Ani. Think. _

The video of him kissing Obi-Wan… That was in a park. They took that in a park. It was dark, so that was before they went to North Lights… Misty Maven is uptown, that’s where Padmé lost him, okay.

He rolled onto his knees and reached across to his desk at the foot of his bed, grabbing a stack of sticky notes. He scribbled down the events he could remember and stuck them at either end of the room, creating either end of a timeline. 

_ Right. What parks are there between uptown and North Lights _ . 

He grabbed a notepad, and began to write a list of every park in the city, and where they were. He paced back and forth in his room, listing the parks on the paper until he couldn’t think of any more. Once he had them all, he methodically crossed them out until only one park remained. The only park that had a fountain and the kind of attention from the city that would give it fairy lights on every lamppost  _ and  _ was on the North Lights subway line, was Wispen Park in the Saturn’s Landing district. Saturn’s Landing was the city’s ‘artistic’ quarter, live music bars and theatres lined most of the streets, and the city council kept the cherry atop the cultural cake with Wispen Park, the city’s cleanest and most well decorated nature spot.

He had to get to that park, if he could remember something there, then he would be on the right track. 

He leaned into Padmé’s room and explained to her his plan, and Padmé, unsurprisingly, didn’t try to stop him. As long as he was back in time for their cozy night in, he was free to go and do whatever he wanted.

Anakin slid his jacket onto his shoulders once again, looking down at his notepad and taking a deep breath. Saturn’s Landing. He slid the notepad into his pocket, and looked down at the palm of his hand, at the two words that started this whole day.

_ I’m coming, Obi-Wan. I will remember you. _

  
  



	2. Saturn's Landing

_ Lovebirds… Lovebirds… _

After his third subway ride of the day, Anakin climbed the steps out of Saturn’s Landing station and took a deep breath. He’d always loved Saturn’s Landing, no wonder he brought Obi-Wan here. He could get to the park through a shortcut he knew, a back-alley bar called Tomorrowland. 

He couldn’t get the video out of his head, the idea of  _ kissing  _ Obi-Wan… He couldn’t even remember what he looked like, but he felt like he knew everything about him. He  _ felt  _ like he had known Obi-Wan his entire life.

His head was filled with regret and anger about his forgetfulness, Anakin was constantly belittling himself over the slightest lapse. He’d worked hard to improve his memory since he left home, training himself to retain information better. He’d spent so many years working to  _ do better  _ with the help of Padmé, he’d forgotten one of the most important lessons he’d learned. His head against his heart, he’d always been in an internal conflict. It was something Doctor Satine Kryze had worked on him with in Art Therapy, he would never forget her words. 

_ “This will lie to you,”  _ She’d told him, guiding his hand to his forehead, that ever-gentle smile on her lips,  _ “But this,”  _ She guided his hand to his chest, holding it over his heart,  _ “This will always tell the truth.” _

_ “But how will I know?”  _ Anakin would ask her, his teenage mind still a melting fondue of angst and confusion, only worsened by his difficulties with short-term memory loss,  _ “How will I know the difference?” _

_ “Your head speaks in words, your head will try to trick you,”  _ Satine spoke in a soft, hushed tone, her benevolent nature ever present even in his memories,  _ “But your heart can only speak in feelings. Trust them.” _

Breaking free from his daydream, Anakin stood at the entrance to Tomorrowland, subconsciously rubbing his chest, his eyes half lidded. 

_ Trust them. _

He lowered his hand and took a confident step into Tomorrowland, ducking underneath some paper lanterns strung up between two sheets of vinyl siding, the sound of indie folk pouring out of the hollowed out shell of a building ahead of him. Tomorrowland was a community project in the district, built in the remains of an iconic cabaret venue in the underground performance scene which had suffered terrific fire damage in the early nineties, so to prevent city council from demolishing a once great building for the community, several theatrical big wigs came together and turned the husk into a hotspot, an eco-friendly, LGBTQIA+ safe, outdoor/indoor bar and hangout. 

Anakin paused in the doorway of the main bar, leaning inside to look around. The interior decoration was bright, welcoming, although from day into night the bar would change into the hotspot he knew it as. In the corner sat a lonely guitar player, and behind the bar was a tall man with tan skin and short dark hair, polishing a glass. He looked up as Anakin’s shadow cast through the door, and he looked over him momentarily, before grinning,

“Oh hey!” He called out, setting the glass down on the counter, “Wolfman! Back already, huh?” He asked, Anakin frowning as he remained in the doorway. The barman chuckled, raising an eyebrow, “I didn’t think I’d see you without your boyfriend hanging off you, where’s Little Red?”

Anakin had frozen in the doorway, staring at the barman with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. He had no idea what the man was talking about, and he didn’t have a strong enough understanding of social cues with anybody except Padmé to casually bounce back. He just… Stood there.

The barman’s laughter softened, and he leaned on the counter,

“You alright, buddy? You look a little pale,” He set his washcloth down and pulled a clean glass from underneath the counter, pouring a glass of water, “Have some water, sit down,” He held out the glass to Anakin, gesturing him over. Anakin had to force himself to move, otherwise he would have been standing there forever. He took heavy steps toward the bar, and slid himself onto a seat, taking the glass with a quiet thank you.

_ Right. You came here last night. Little Red must be Obi-Wan, yeah? Okay, play it cool. Wait, did this guy call Obi-Wan his boyfriend?! _

“So… You gonna tell me what happened to Little Red?” The barman asked casually, his bright teal eyes examining Anakin’s face closely. Anakin took a hearty swig of the water, attempting to quell his dry mouth,

“I… I’m sorry,” He sighed, not making eye contact with the barman, “This is gonna sound crazy, but I need you to tell me what happened last night, I don’t remember any of it,” He winced, watching the man’s expression shift to that of confusion and shock. 

“Wait,” The barman shook his head, resting on the counter, eyes wide as he watched Anakin sulk, “You don’t  _ remember _ ? You were the Wolfman! You came here last night, drank half our regulars under the table and howled at the moon!” He exclaimed excitedly, running his fingers through his hair, “And your boyfriend, Little Red, I tell you I’d go  _ blind  _ to have someone look at me the way he looked at you,” He laughed, shaking his head, “Some guys have all the luck.”

Anakin stared at him, lost for words. He had no idea what to do with the information he’d just had launched at him. He… He did all of that? And Obi-Wan…  _ Fuck,  _ his head was reeling. He tilted his head down, looking into his empty glass, eyes falling half lidded. The barman went to speak, interrupted by another gentlemen at the other end of the bar,

“Jarrus!” The man hollered, “Get me another homebrew,” He was a regular, on name basis with the barman, at least. ‘Jarrus’ smiled at Anakin, mouthing ‘one second’ at him, before grabbing a bottle of the homebrew from a fridge behind the bar.

Anakin looked back down at his glass, circling his fingertip along the rim. He glanced up to observe the room, the ragtag group of regulars dotted about the place, drinking their lives away in bliss. Padmé said he was headstrong, and maybe he was. Maybe he was reckless, but he’d always done the right thing… Right? 

He looked back down into his glass, sighing heavily, his head swimming in a sea of broken memories. He had to think,  _ think _ . Wolfman… Little Red… Howling… He raised his drink and necked the remainder, something switching in the back of his mind as he looked at the misshapen ceiling through the basin of the glass.

The visuals came surging into his mind, and there he was, downing a pint of beer. He slammed the glass down onto the table, the crowd of people surrounding him in the bar cheering loudly. His vision was blurred, he was in an alcoholic haze, the flashing lights of the bar nightlife further driving his delirium. His head lulled from side to side, until it hinged back, and he howled up at the white spotlight on the ceiling. 

_ Wolf-man! Wolf-man! Wolf-man!  _

The crowd was cheering for him, chanting. He felt someone nuzzling his arm, and he remembered looking down. 

He saw a face, but his vision was so broken, the mixture of staring into bright lights and consuming copious amounts of alcohol in one sitting blurring his sight significantly, but he saw him. He could see a pair of bright blue eyes, like gemstones carved into a perfectly porcelain figure, a quaff of strawberry blonde, dusty ginger hair perched atop his head, paired with a matching beard. He could feel his heart racing, even in the present. 

_ Could it be? _

The memory started to fade, but he pleaded it to keep going. He begged himself to keep remembering, screwing his eyes shut to remain in his state of remembrance. His past self looked away from the blurred figure, returning his attention to the bright white light above them, almost blinding himself as the memory faded away entirely. 

He slowly opened his eyes, his chest heavy with the weight of knowing he could have seen him, he could have seen Obi-Wan, if he hadn’t have been so trollied he could have seen  _ more _ . He looked up, locking eyes with the barman once more, who now wore a concerned, yet knowing expression,

“Do you really not remember anything from last night?” He asked, slowly. Anakin shook his head, looking back down into his lap without so much as a murmur of a response. The barman rested his hands on his hips, tutting as he shook his head, “And Little Red seemed so smitten with you too…” He stopped as Anakin leaned across the bar, eyes suddenly wide and staring straight through him, his hand clasped firmly around his wrist,

“Please, uh…” He trailed off, looking over the man’s body for a name tag, seemingly unable to find one but forging ahead regardless, “Whatever your name is, please, can you tell me what  _ you  _ remember about last night?”

The barman recoiled slightly, politely removing Anakin’s hand from his wrist but remaining cautiously aware,

“There’s not much to tell, last night was my first shift behind the bar,” He sighed, “I was too busy trying to keep up with the orders to pay a whole lot of attention, but,” He paused, gesturing to a table and two chairs strewn messily in the centre of the dance floor, positioned underneath the large white light Anakin had seen in his memory, “When you started challenging folks to a drinking competition, I had to keep an eye on you. Drunk people can get pretty wild, y’know? So, I’m watching,” He folded his arms across his chest, taking a moment to recollect the night accurately, “And next thing I know, you’re howling at the spotlight, and everyone around you is chanting wolfman, right? So you jump up,” He mimicked the action, in an almost pantomime fashion, causing Anakin to laugh quietly under his breath, “And you have this guy on your arm, nice looking guy, red hair,  _ big  _ blue eyes…” He trailed off, catching himself quickly, “Anyway, you’ve got this guy hanging off you, looking at you like you’re some kind of celebrity, and you kick the chair over,” He exaggerated the movements, but otherwise had Anakin on tenterhooks, listening to the recalling, “And start cheering about how you’re the  _ big bad wolf  _ and this guy,” He laughed, shaking his head, “Was Little Red, and you had to take him to grandma’s house! I tell you, it was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen, and the best part is, he just goes along with it! He must’ve really trusted you.”

Anakin felt a pulse in his chest. A feeling, a vibration that pulsed delicately through his ribs. Trust. Obi-Wan trusted him. 

But Grandma’s House? What was that about? It would explain why they were walking through the park, and why Anakin was leading him, but… Where were they going? He stirred from his musing, and smiled at the barman, 

“Thank you,” He had a lighter air about him than before, “You’ve been a huge help, uh…”   
  
“Kanan,” The barman jumped in, chuckling, “Kanan Jarrus. Nice to see you again, Wolfman.” He teased, giving Anakin a slight wave as he watched him scoot towards the door. Anakin looked over his shoulder, and waved back, grinning,

“It’s Anakin. Anakin Skywalker,” He replied, nodding his head with a newfound confidence, “See you around, Kanan,” He had another link in the chain of memories that would lead him to Obi-Wan. He’d found another piece of the puzzle and he couldn’t stop now. He needed to push on and put this thing together. 

He needed to remember.

  * • •



Wispen Park was situated on the east side of the district, a gorgeous nature spot that spanned the length of two blocks, sprawling with art students and families in the winter morning, waxing lyrical about worldly affairs and what they’d order from the pizza shop that night. 

Anakin took long strides through the park, keeping the to the tarmac pavement, his eyes darting about as he tried to spy the spot from the video. If he could find that spot, maybe he could find whatever this ‘Grandma’s House’ business was about. His eyes wanded up to the sky, the low winter sun casting a forgiving golden glow, grey clouds drifting in from the west overhead. He felt a chill in the air, but his heart was racing. 

A tall lamppost drifted into view, and Anakin’s head snapped forward. He was in the right spot, so now all he had to do was retrace his steps, right? Sure, it would help if he could  _ remember  _ the steps he was supposed to retrace, but he was determined. He stood in place, steadily turning on the spot as he took note of his surroundings, mentally clocking the things he remembered from the video. 

His eyes landed on the tree, and he felt his chest tighten, his lips puckered for a second as a tingle ran across his jawline, a faint ghost of a tickle against his skin, like the scratching of a beard on his face. That must be the tree he kissed Obi-Wan against. He stepped onto the grass, slowly walking to the tree and stopping at the roots. He extended through his arm, resting the palm of his hand against the bark, closing his eyes as he danced his fingers across the rough, earthy tissue, allowing his senses to take the lead. He inhaled slowly through his nose, taking in the scent of the grass, the dewdrops on the leaves. He closed his hand gradually into a fist, forcing himself to reach deep into the heart of his memories, but his mind went blank.    
  


He couldn’t see anything, he was just a weirdo groping a tree in the middle of the day. He brought his hand back, exhaling heavily as his lungs deflated. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t focus. His mind was scarce of any recollection in that moment, and he knew he probably wouldn’t find much else. 

What was the problem? He’d been having flashbacks all morning at random, why when he  _ wanted  _ to have them, was he coming up nil? He turned on his heels, resting his back against the tree and closing his eyes, letting his head fall back against the bark. 

_ Come on, Ani. What were you doing in the park? Why were you here?  _

“Grandma’s House…” He whispered under his breath, his back arching slightly as his temples throbbed, an image forming behind his eyes, burning through his retinas. 

He could see a small house, perched on the waterfront, nestled in the bank. A willow tree loomed overhead, it’s foliage brushing across the top of his head delicately, the sound of the water circling through his ears.

A cottage… Thatch roof… He recognised it, he recognised the water nearby. 

He felt hands on his body, the image fading, turning to black as phantom hands slid under his shirt, caressing his body. He shook awake, his heart pounding in his chest. 

His breathing was heavy, laboured, like he’d run a marathon. 

_ What was that? _

He shrugged his coat closer over his shoulders and stepped away from the tree, glancing over his shoulder and looking around. He slid his hands into his pockets and wandered back onto the path, taking a steady stroll through the park, stopping at the fountain and watching the jets gracefully spray water into the air. He ran his hand across the granite of the fountain’s basin, watching his nails scratch the surface weakly. 

  
Anakin was fascinated by the world around him, he always had been. His art was always inspired by things he’d touched, or smelled, or tasted. His senses were his ruling house, he didn’t even paint with brushes or sponges, he did it all with his hands. 

He watched the world move around him, taking it all in as his mind drifted, confused by the sensation of hands under his clothes from earlier. He couldn’t take his mind off it at first, but as he sat on the fountain edge, he began to settle. His heartrate slowed, and eventually he closed his eyes once more, relaxing into his sitting position and listening to the sound of the running water. 

Running water, just like the memory. 

_ Water… The memory… That cottage…  _

“ _ Fuck, Anakin… _ ” A voice moaned in the back of his mind.

His eyes shot open, and he looked around suddenly, a sudden tension having consumed his muscles. Did he hear that, or… Was it a memory?

He shook his head quickly, but the shock remained in his system. Where did that come from? He was beginning to feel overwhelmed, he needed to get back home and calm down. He didn’t want to overstress himself, but equally he didn’t want to forget about last night completely, and part of him feared that if he went to sleep… 

He’d never remember. 

He slid to his feet, glancing up at the park clock. It was approaching mid-afternoon, he’d been wandering through the park for far longer than he’d intended and he was still no closer than he’d been when he left Tomorrowland. He needed to talk to Padmé, and get his phone  _ fixed _ . There was likely far more information stored on there than he had to hand, and more clues to Obi-Wan’s identity were exactly what he needed.

_ Obi-Wan. _

The name was like a bullet in his chest, sending bursts of energy through his system. What did he know about Obi-Wan? He was shorter than Anakin, he had red hair with a matching beard… Blue eyes… Porcelain skin… That was all he had. He didn’t even have a  _ surname _ . 

He began to make a list in his head as he walked, formulating a vague plan of action for when he returned home to his apartment. He’d get on social media and-

Shit, his exhibition. He was supposed to be promoting it on social media, but with no  _ phone  _ how could he? 

He didn’t even have all of his paintings finished, and the exhibition was that weekend, his agent would be so mad… His hands shot up to either side of his head, roughing up his hair as he grunted in frustration. Okay, okay, new plan. Go home, talk to Padmé about getting phone fixed, and  _ paint _ .

Yeah… Paint. That would help. Painting always helped him rebalance his thoughts, everything was in perspective when laid out on canvas. Everything made  _ sense  _ when he painted. 

He would paint. 

  * • •



Sunday Towers looked different every hour of the day, and in the late afternoon light it was awash with buttery hues, the low sun reflected off the long glass panes of the penthouses and studio apartments that grazed the cloud layer above. The sound of the downtown echoed in the form of car horns and the hiss of street food vendors, and the  _ smell  _ of the vendors… Anakin was salivating. He couldn’t wait to gorge himself with food later, to take part in the wicked indulgence of greasy, salty food that was so bad for you, but so good. 

He stepped into his apartment building and jogged up the stairs once more, waltzing through the front door and slamming it shut behind him.

“ _ Way to close the kriffing door, Ani! _ ” Padmé called from the living room, and Anakin laughed, leaning around the corner with a grin,

“Sorry,” He replied, sliding his coat off his frame and hanging it up, “Did you finish the work you wanted to get done?” He asked, glancing at his friend who simply shook her head. She was curled up on the sofa with a pint of peanut butter and pretzel ice cream and a large spoon in her hand. Anakin tossed his keys onto the side, frowning slightly, “You okay, Paddy? You’re eating your emergency ice cream...”   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” She replied heavily, digging the spoon into the ice cream, “Just needed a break from crunching numbers,” She stared into the semi-frozen dairy for a moment, before taking a deep inhale and smiling, “How did your research mission go?” 

She was changing the subject, but Anakin knew not to pressure her, instead moving with her conversational flow,

“Pretty good actually,” He grinned, sitting beside her on the sofa, “Well, it was, at least…” He went on to explain the drinking competition at Tomorrowland, and everything Kanan had told him, along with what he’d remembered about Obi-Wan. He trailed off on a tangent about the park, but grounded himself when he began to talk about whatever  _ Grandma’s House  _ was supposed to be, and the memory he’d had about the cottage on the waterfront.

He left out the details about the hands under his clothes and the moaning, he didn’t think they were  _ super  _ important.

Padmé hugged her knees to her chest, her lips pursed as she absorbed the info Anakin offloaded onto her. She tapped her spoon off the arm of the sofa as she remained deep in thought, broken from her musings as Anakin spoke again,

“Also, I really think I should get my phone fixed so, uh,  _ bestie _ ,” He laughed awkwardly, “Would you mind taking it to that used phone shop on Beaker? Only, I have to finish these paintings before this weekend, and, well, I…”

Padmé shushed him with her finger, smiling warmly,

“Don’t worry,” She assured, placing the ice cream on the coffee table and sealing the lid, “Go on, go do your painting. It’ll do me good to get outside for a bit anyway.”

Anakin threw his arms around her and squeezed,

“Thank you.” He whispered in her ear, and she returned the hug. After a moment of embrace, they separated and Padmé disappeared into her room to get changed into something a little less comfortable, while Anakin unlocked the door to his studio room at the back of their apartment.

This room was the selling point of actually moving into the place, it was a spacious, airy room tucked away at the back of the place, that had just the right amount of natural light so Anakin could comfortably paint without having to set up a ridiculous lighting rig. 

He opened up his supply cupboard and grabbed some paints, setting them aside before lifting up a fresh canvas from the small stack he kept at the ready. He rigged it on his easel and took off his shirt, as not to get any paint on it. He tossed it aside, and upon priming the canvas, he grabbed the paint he’d picked and smeared some colours onto his hands, resting them into the canvas and beginning to work. 

Van Gough was crazy. Some say he was  _ flat fucking crazy.  _ Batshit, Anakin had heard. But, his paintings aren’t crazy. His paintings are controlled, meaningful, they made sense. Anakin’s paintings weren’t dissimilar to Van Gough’s work, there was harmony and logic behind every swipe of his hands, it was the only time in his life he ever felt  _ truly _ in control. He closed his eyes, put fingers to canvas and he painted, and everything else just disappeared.

Painting, at times, felt like Anakin’s only escape. He’d painted his way out of a backwater town, he’d painted his way into university, he’d even painted his way through grieving the death of his mother. He’d painted until he ached, until he wasn’t sure what would break first; the canvas or his fingernails. 

He painted himself a scholarship on the Fine Arts degree, a full ride with early admit. He got out of his nowhere hometown, leaving everything behind. He couldn’t bare to stay any longer, not without his mother there. He graduated high school early, and there was nothing anybody could say to stop him. 

_ He was out of there _ . 

He knew happiness was just an Expressionist away, so he painted. He painted, and everything else faded into the background.

But the most important thing he’d learned about painting is that it  _ helped  _ him. He learned how to isolate images in his head, and although at first he didn’t know what they meant, his sessions with Satine unveiled that they were fragments of his short term memory. He’d been able to recover sections of his memory through his art, so maybe, he could use it to remember Obi-Wan.

He opened his eyes slowly, taking a step back to assess his work, drops of red and green paint splattered across his tight, athletic bare torso. On the canvas, staring back at him, was the very cottage he’d seen in the memory, albeit smeared and slightly avant garde looking. He wiped his hands down his chest to remove the excess paint, and examined the image closely. He’d created the image from muscle memory, now all he needed to do was unlock the full picture.

His eyes scanned the painting until they landed on a detail he hadn’t noticed initially. In the background, above a smear of deep watery blues, was a silhouette with a swirl of yellow and white in their hand. Was it a flashlight? If so, why was somebody walking around with a  _ flashlight _ ? 

Unless, it was private land… Anakin began to pace back and forth, the wheels spinning in the back of his mind as he tried to focus on what that could be, feeling on the verge of a breakthrough when the front door slammed,

“Ani, I’m back!” Padmé called from the hallway, having snapped Anakin from his thoughtful trance. He looked up at the painting, and sighed. He needed a break, his mind was turning to mush under all this stress of trying to  _ figure it out _ . He grabbed a bathrobe he kept hanging up in the studio and slid it onto his frame, moving into the doorway to see Padmé, stood with not only a stack of pizza boxes, but also Anakin’s phone in her hand.

“Did they fix it  _ already _ ?” He asked, quickly walking to her side to give her a hand with the pizza boxes, the pair relocating to the kitchen as they talked,

“Yeah,” Padmé grinned, setting down her stack of boxes and holding out Anakin’s phone for him to take, “They replaced the screen and cleaned out the ports, apparently the inside is practically untouched,” She set her purse down on the counter as Anakin took his phone, looking over it, “Didn’t cost a whole lot either.”   
  
Anakin’s heart was in his throat as he looked down at his phone in his hands. The potential of so many answers were  _ right there _ , he just had to look for them. He took a deep breath, and held down the power button to turn it on, watching as the logo faded through the black screen. Padmé glanced at him from across the kitchen, watching with a gentle smile as she grabbed the wine from the cooler and some glasses, setting up for their night in.

Anakin could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he watched the phone come to life. The anticipation of maybe, just  _ maybe  _ having something that could guide him in the direction of finding Obi-Wan was giving him the shivers. 

With a final chime, the phone was back online, Anakin’s lockscreen of Padmé and him together at the beach smiling up at him. He felt a familiar warmth seeing the picture again, and wasted no time tapping in his passcode and beginning to sieve through everything he could think of to find  _ something _ . He tapped through app after app, finally loading up his Instagram account to receive a popup window, reading,

_ Draft saved, post now? _

He felt his shoulders raise towards his ears as a tension began to build in his chest. He tapped the ‘edit draft’ option, his heart fit to burst as the picture loaded.

_ Come on, come on… Please, let it be him. _

And there he was. The picture popped into view, a photo of Anakin with his arm around the shoulders of another man, both of them smiling ear to ear, looking at the camera. Anakin rested his hand on the countertop as he stared at the picture, and into the eyes of the other man beside him. Red hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin… 

“Obi-Wan,” He said at last, almost breathless, an uncontrollable smile stretching across his lips, a tightly wound coil in the pit of his stomach finally releasing as he saw him. He saw him in 4K, high definition. He could see everything,  _ at last _ . He saw the wrinkles by his eyes, the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose, a faint scarring at the corner of his mouth, hidden slightly by his beard.

Padmé looked up from the sink, her deep, brown eyes widening as she heard,

“Did you find him?” She asked, quickly drying her hands and moving to his side to look at the photo. Anakin was frozen in place, his fingers shaky as he stared at the screen. Padmé placed a hand delicately on Anakin’s shoulder as she read the draft caption, squinting slightly as she hadn’t got her glasses on, “Hey baby,” She murmured, “I think I wanna…  _ Marry you _ ?” She stood straight, unable to resist a slight chuckle, “Ani, I’ve never seen you so…”   
  
“Happy?” Anakin finished the sentence for her, finally breaking his gaze from Obi-Wan’s face, his goofy grin unchanging, “Paddy, I don’t know how to explain it, but… There he is,” He nodded to the phone, exhaling shakily, “Sorry, I… I feel kinda dizzy.” He closed his eyes, his balance rocking slightly as he caught himself on the counter. Padmé supported him with her hand, 

“Come on, let’s get you sat down, okay?” She assured, guiding him through to the living room and to the sofa, where he sat down heavily, the phone still tight in his grasp, “I’ll grab the pizza, and we can pull the curtains and turn this room into our own little cinema tonight, get your mind off of… All of this.” She smiled with half lidded eyes, looking over him. Anakin opened his eyes slowly, staring down at the picture again. His smile quickly returned, and he nodded his head in agreement with Padmé, hugging his knees to his chest. Padmé leaned down, and kissed his forehead softly, before walking back into the kitchen to collect the stacked boxes.

Anakin couldn’t take his eyes off Obi-Wan in the picture. He felt a relief like nothing he’d ever known, he felt like… Like he’d come home.

He felt like he’d found his missing piece, and he didn’t want to lose him again.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it! Comments, bookmarks and kudos are much appreciated!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of this fic! I hope you enjoyed, comments, bookmarks and kudos are much appreciated!!


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